Staked
by Spikesgirl58
Summary: Just what do two guys talk about while on a stake out after all the usual stuff has been discussed?


"I am so bored," Napoleon Solo announced as he flopped back on the bed of the hotel room. "I would think after all these years I should be immune to such torment."

From his perch at the hotel window, Illya chuckled softly. "It does a man good to get back to his roots, Napoleon. And it demonstrates to the newer agents that you aren't above taking on the most mundane of tasks." He adjusted the binoculars again and kept watch.

The truth of the matter was Illya was no fan of stake-outs himself, but they were a necessary evil in their line of work. And it could truly be said that this customer was certainly worth the extra attention. Galle De Mente was a very nasty piece of work, even for a THRUSH, and Mr. Waverly wanted not slip ups, no mistakes. So here they sat and sat…and sat.

Or rather, he sat and Napoleon complained. Not that Illya minded so much. It kept his mind off his other little…problem. After a month of job-enforced celibacy, Illya was ready to take on a herd of water buffalos. He was so horny he could barely stand to touch himself to urinate. He went through bouts like this every once in awhile. Usually, he could get around it and find an accommodating woman, but not this time. This time, life was determined to throw every obstacle in his path to keep him from getting laid. And it was making him crazy.

He sighed and refocused his attention on the building across the way. With any luck, De Mente would come wandering out and provide a well needed distraction. In the meantime, Illya struggled to keep his mind on anything else.

"Hey, Illya?"

"Yes, Napoleon?"

"How old were you the first time you had sex?"

"Excuse me?" Illya glanced sharply over at this partner. How Napoleon could just clue in on his thoughts disturbed Illya. Or possibly they were actually Napoleon's thoughts as well. His partner hadn't had much success in the dating department as of late himself.

"I was just wondering." Napoleon pulled his attention away from the ceiling he'd been studying and grinned over at his partner. "I was fifteen, she was an older woman of seventeen. It was nearly over before it started, but I knew right then and there, sex was all they said it was."

Illya had to actually pause and consider things for a moment. He was intensely private, but this was his partner and surely no real harm could come from it. After a long moment, he said, "Seventeen and I spent the next six months in Siberia paying for my lack of attention."

"She sent you to Siberia?"

"Her father, the general, did. I neglected to pay attention to the time and, well, let's just say, I found working in a mine not worth a few moments of pleasure."

"Huh, no wonder you have no interest in sex."

"What makes you say that?"

"When was the last time you had a date…that kind of date?"

"Far too long ago." Illya's penis twitched at the thought and he sighed, staring back out the window, but not really seeing. Instead, his mind had drifted back…Vanessa, he thought her name was…a bit of a wildcat in bed, just the way he liked them. Smart enough for conversation afterwards other than the obligatory 'was it good for you too?' discussion. However, it made the pickings rather slim on occasions.

Napoleon chuckled at the admission. "Hell, partner, some days, four hours is too long." Napoleon fell silent again, leaving Illya with his own thoughts. Then, "Did you ever experiment in college?"

"Napoleon, I was taking Quantum Physics – sometimes just showing up to class was an experiment in itself."

"I meant the other kind of experimenting…you know, drugs, sex."

"No. I was in a position of being closely scrutinized by several agencies as well as my government. I did not sneeze but a dozen people knew about it. I was not given much freedom in such things."

"Shame." Napoleon rolled over on his stomach, resting his chin on his forearms. ""Those are some of my best memories."

"Of that I have no doubt. It would be unlikely that scholastic achievement would rate rather high on your hit parade."

"You sound bitter, my friend."

"Envious, perhaps, of your freedom, but not bitter."

"Well, what about during your time with the Navy?"

"Napoleon, is there something that you wish to know? Perhaps you should simply ask your question." Illya turned back to the window. De Mente was still at his table, still eating, still apparently oblivious to their presence.

"Okay, you ever had a guy?"

It was to his great credit that Illya didn't drop the binoculars any farther than he did. At least they weren't damaged. "Napoleon!"

"Just curious and you did say to ask…I mean, you just never seem very interested in all the women who buzz around you."

"Has it occurred to you that I might require more of a bed partner than a giggle and a comely smile?"

"It has, which is why I ask." Napoleon was grinning now and Illya felt himself the butt of a very bad joke, if one would allow him a bad pun.

Illya shook his head and returned to De Mente, sitting up abruptly. "Napoleon, he's moving."

In an instant, Napoleon was at his side, leaning over, arm around Illya's shoulders in an almost intimate fashion. Illya turned and stopped. His partner's face was just millimeters from his, so close he could smell the scent of the hotel soap on Napoleon's skin. He felt Napoleon's breath on his cheek and felt a rush to his groin and he closed his eyes against the urge to grab his partner, throw him down and take him forcibly. Hell, if Napoleon had been a woman, he'd have been naked, on his back and counting ceiling tiles by now.

Napoleon turned and frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, leg cramp," Illya managed after the briefest of pauses. He passed the binoculars over and stepped away from the window, his hand reaching for his communicator. He also took the opportunity to turn his back to his partner, lest Napoleon see the fruits of his unintended labor.

"Open Channel D. Mark, are you in place?"

"That I am, mate and I've got me peepers solid on him." Mark-speak for he could see their prey.

"Good, we're on our way." Illya glanced over at his partner, still crouched by the window and wondered, just for a moment what it would have been like to dance that particular dance with his partner.

Napoleon looked over and blue eyes meet hazel dead on and then suddenly they were agents again and out the door. Illya couldn't help but think it would have been glorious.


End file.
